


Turning Point

by hunenka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Fix-It, Gen, Mild Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Practically Everyone Is Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shameless post <i>I’m No Angel fix-it fic</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

This isn’t fair, keeps running through Dean’s head, over and over, as he watches Castiel’s silhouette walking away from the bunker, shrinking in the distance. This isn’t fair.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, he tells himself as he walks down the stairs into the main room.

Just when Dean started seeing the faintest chance that things might be looking up, the universe stepped in to kick him in the ass again.

And now Cas is gone. Again. Only this time it’s even worse than ever before – now he’s gone because Dean _told him_ to leave.

And Cas went, without questions, without protest, and almost – but not quite – managing to hide the hurt, betrayed expression in his eyes. He took the backpack with the stuff Dean had packed for him, and went.

“Fuck!” Dean shouts and kicks a chair angrily, then does it again because it feels damn good. When he’s done, the piece of furniture is nothing but splinters.

It’s still not enough, so he heads downstairs, to the gym, to the punching bag. He doesn’t bother with gloves.

This isn’t fair.

He spent long hours fantasizing about finding Cas, about bringing him back to the bunker. Then he spent days looking for him, found him only to watch him die and then be revived by Zeke. And on the way back to the bunker, with Sam by his side and Cas in the backseat, Dean made plans for what they were going to do once they were back.

In fact, he had a whole list of fun stuff that he wanted to show Cas: all flavors of ice-cream. Pie of any kind. Pizza. Burgers. Fries. Steaks. Booze, so much of it that they’d both get totally wasted and be sick the whole next day. Free internet porn. Watching bad horror movies and laughing at the stupid fake monsters. Practical jokes (directed at Sam, mostly). Rock music played on old cassette tapes. Sleeping late. Back massages. Long, hot showers.

And maybe, if Dean ever plucked up the courage, some inappropriate touching of the boy-on-boy kind. Because yeah, as Dean told Ezekiel, he’s not really good with the whole love stuff, but he’d done a lot of thinking lately and finally decided that it was time to man up and accept the fact that there was this… thing between him and Cas and it wasn’t going away and maybe Dean should do something about it.

The sad truth is, Dean was getting ready to be happy.

Except now it’s all gone again. Busted to pieces and trampled into the ground.

And Dean is tired.

He’s fucking tired of it all, of finding hope and faith only to have it ripped away from him over and over again.

He’s fucking tired of having to choose between Sam and Cas, or, for that matter, between Sam and _anything_ , including the whole world, because he can’t help it, he’s always going to choose Sam, no matter how bad it hurts, no matter how it destroys him inside.

He’s fucking tired of hurting and feeling miserable and losing everything he cares about.

And he’s tired of being tired.

So he’s going to do what he does best: stop whining about the world being fucked up and start working on fixing it instead. Go on and on, stubborn like a bulldog, hunt down and kill every single son of a bitch that dares to threaten Dean and his family, be it angel or demon or the freaking Godzilla.

Because he deserves a happy ending and if the universe doesn’t seem inclined to give it to Dean, Dean’s fucking well going to take it himself.

He’s done being anyone’s bitch.

So yeah. That’s what he’s gonna do.

He stares at the punching bad that’s swinging wildly in front of him, and frowns when he sees the dark red smears of blood on the black leather. He looks down at his hands and sees them bloody.

He snorts. Like a little pain’s gonna stop him. Please.

Dean runs up the stairs to the main room, plans and strategies already forming in his head. He’ll have to call together every hunter he knows, everyone that could be useful. And he’ll have to do it quick. “Sam! Kevin! Get your asses over here!”

They come, looking worried and concerned and curious.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam’s eyes are glued to Dean’s bloodied knuckles. “What happened?”

Dean grins, and it’s an ugly, dirty smile, one that promises pain and death to anything that dares to stand in his way. “We’re in a war. It’s time for an offensive.”

*

Several days later, the bunker if chock-full of people. Well, mostly people.

Let’s see. From his vantage point at the top of the entrance staircase, Dean slowly looks over the gathered crowd.

The hunters: over thirty of them, including Garth and that young chick Tracy, and God help Dean, also Krissy and her Scooby Gang. Other hunters across the globe are in touch, so they can all work in sync.

The nerds: Kevin and Charlie and a couple of others that Dean doesn’t know but Charlie vouches for them, so he trusts them. Their computer magic will come in pretty handy in a media counterstrike against Reverend Buddy Boyle’s pro-angel campaign.

The angels: yeah, they found a couple of winged bastards who don’t belong to Bartholomew’s Holy Squad. All vouched for by Castiel, who can’t be here in person, but in every way that matters to Dean, he’s right there by Dean’s side. Even with clipped wings, the angels are a force not to be messed with.

The not-so-evil forces of evil and other supernatural creatures: a couple of witches, including Mr. and Mrs. Stark, some vamps on a diet from the late Lenore’s nest, several rogue Reapers, Aaron and his huge Golem, a pack of skinwalkers led by Lucky. Aside from the obvious advantages, they can also be used as spies and informants, and the same goes for the angels.

All in all, it is a motley crew indeed.

Dean takes a deep breath that doesn’t really help to calm him down, so he looks to Sam for support, and he finds it in his brother’s small, tight smile and a nod that says “You can do it. We trust you.”

Okay. Here we go.

“Alright, listen up.” And they do, turning their heads in Dean’s direction and looking at him like soldiers awaiting orders from their general. It’s a Hell lot of responsibility, a Hell lot of pressure to take, but Dean is ready. “So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

END


End file.
